Full Moon Delight
by UnpluggedCrazy
Summary: PostBTVS and postATS. Oz finds himself with his own band, and feeling helplessly lost and lonely. This short fic chronicles one night at a club with a special lady.


A/N: I do not own any rights to any of these characters...Joss Whedon does, the lucky bastard.

She couldn't get it out of her head. What it was, she didn't know. But it sure was damned catchy.

The beats and rhythms banged around her brain, until she couldn't hold it in any longer. She had to find whoever had played that, had wrote that, whatever. She needed to find that man and marry the hell out of him. She stretched, and got up from her table at the club. She surveyed the place, looking for the band that had been on less than an hour ago. They could've booked by now, but she was hoping they hadn't. She needed to find that man.

She walked around the perimeter of the club, squinting her eyes, looking for at least one of the band members. She saw a couple of hot guys, but, unfortunately, they hadn't been in the band. If they had, though...well...let's just say she wouldn't be telling her tight-laced lawyer daddy what exactly she had done with them. Some guy in the corner who had tried to pick her up earlier thought she was giving him "the look" (the one you give someone you want to bed very badly), but she just rolled her eyes and kept on looking.

When she was just about to give up all hope, she spotted one of them. The guy was kind of short, actually a little mousy, but she could just tell he exuded cool. Especially his hair. Spiky, blondish-brown. The man was definitely cool. Imagine how cool he would be if he was with her and hers.

She began to saunter over to him and his lonely little corner.

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He stood there, his back propped up against the wall, casually watching the club's last few dozen occupants of the night. He slowly sipped his java; he didn't touch the alcohol. He didn't think he could handle it, and didn't really want to.

His entire being buzzed with energy, and he hoped that it stopped soon. He really shouldn't have come out tonight, even though the band desperately needed a gig. He should've come up with some entirely false excuse to cancel the gig, and just stayed home, locked away. The moon was full, and he didn't like full moons. He was no longer a slave to its will, but he still didn't completely trust himself. Anything could happen, and he'd been slipping lately. The past few full moons it had been hard to restrain himself.

Then he saw her approaching from above the rim of his styrofoam cup. She was wearing a really short skirt with a really tight, almost see-through shirt. She looked kinda skanky. But hey, she had never done anything to him, so he'd be nice and completely sociable. He just hoped he wouldn't change.

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She arrived at her destination, trying to control the urge to lick her lips. He looked absolutely _de_licious.

"Hi there," she said in a bright, enthusiastic voice.

"Hey," he answered, very monotone.

"I saw you guys playing here tonight." She hoped she was accentuating her boobs enough.

"Yeah."

She waited. He said nothing more.

"So...um...yeah," she continued, "you guys were really great. I haven't heard anything like that in a loooong time."

"Well, actually, we weren't completely on key tonight. Besides, if you can ever find Search Point Blank playing, they do pretty much the same thing we do."

He was modest. She didn't know if she thought that was cool or not.

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Well, there was one thing he had noticed about this new aquaintace of hIS. She was trying way too hard to show off her breasts. Whatever she wanted from him, he really wasn't willing to give.

"So, what's your name?" she asked, perhaps inquiring a little too much.

"I don't know, who's asking?" he responded, arching his eyebrows just the slightest.

"The name's Sarita." Odd. She didn't _look_ Spanish.

"I'm Oz."

"As in..."

"...As in, 'The Wonderful Wizard of,' yes."

"Actually, I was thinking more, as in the HBO prison drama that ran from 1997 to 2003."

"Huh. Ironically, I've never actually seen it."

"So..." she paused, scanning him. He didn't appreciate the action...at least not from her. "What are you doing later?"

She seemed to be asking quite a lot. And then, just then, he felt every fiber of his being explode and expand into something horrible. The sensation only lasted a moment, but it was frightening.

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The guy spilled his java all over the floor. What a spaz. Well, he was spazzy, yet cute, and quite the musician. She was pretty sure that last one made up for all of his other flaws.

He crouched down to pick up his java, and said, "What am I...doing later? Not too sure. Sleep...uh, comes to mind." He picked up his cup and moved to the trash bin, then disposed of it. He glanced down at the puddle of java, realizing that he had no napkins. "Mind if we move over here?"

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He can't believe he had almost lost it like that. He and his skanky new pal moved to the bar, and sat down on the stools.

Regathering himself, he asked, "So, why are you so interested in me?" A little too straightforward than he had wanted to be, but he was curious.

"That music!" she gasped enthusiastically. "I was just wondering, which one of you wrote that?"

"Well, you won't have to wonder for too long. I'm right here."

"_You_? _You_ wrote that?"

"I know I'm much too devilishly handsome to have any apparent talent, but, yes, I wrote that piece. It's called 'Shockstrung Bullet.'"  
"Shockstrung...?"

"New phrase I liked."

"I can see where the bullet part came in. It was so damn fast!"

"Actually, 'Bullet' refers to our drummer, Scotty. He was shot in the kneecap while I was writing it."

"Oh, I...I see..."

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This guy was weird, but hey, think outside of the box, right? She had to get him out of this place. Time to spring a trap and snare the man.

"Well," she said, "what was the name of your band again?"

"Crescent Moon," he replied.

"Not...Full Moon?"

He gave a small chuckle. "I don't like full moons."

"I actually kinda like them. They're so big and pretty...plus, I love the night."

"I'm more fond of day."

"Well, diffrn't strokes for diffrn't folks, right?"

"Yeah..."

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The girl was enthusiastic about her music, which he was cool with, but her fascination with the night didn't set as well.

"You wanna get out of here?" she asked.

"Actually, I was thinking I'd better get home," he replied in a melancholy tone.

"Oh, come on, the night is young, the stars are bright..."

"Thanks, but..."

"C'mon, I was gonna go pick up some records..."

"Are we talking vinyl?"

"Yes, vintage 1970s vinyl."

"What records?"

"Come find out!"

As they moved from the bar and out of the club, he knew she was lying. There were no records. But he thought of his options. Be alone, like he had been for the past four years, or see what this mildly amusing girl was up to. Though he knew the former was a tried-and-true method of sheer pain and brooding, right now, for no real reason, he preferred the latter.

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Wow, it sure was easier to lure the guy out of that place than she thought it'd be. She grabbed his hand, and though she noticed that he did flinch, she held onto it anyway, and pulled him away from the club, across the back parking lot, and finally behind the building. She could sense his uneasiness, but he did follow her at least partially out of his own will.

"Not seeing any records," he said dryly.

"Well, we're only behind the club so far, silly."

"That I did see."

She was growing impatient. "You wanna see something really neat?"

She could feel the lust growing inside her.

"You'll have to close your eyes."

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He pulled a cross from his jacket pocket.

"Get away from me, vampire."

The girl hissed, baring fangs, her eyes turning yellow, and her brow crinkling.

"How did you know?" she asked, bemused.

"You're not much for espionage."

"Ooh, you've got quite the tongue, I think I'll rip it out and suck its juices..."

He growled. A deep, guttural noise.

"Oh, you've got wolf in you?" she asked, even more amused, then looked up at the full moon. "Shouldn't you be changing...?"

"Long story. I don't feel like explaining."

"I'm sure we could have us a great time, wolf..."

"I don't want any trouble." He growled again, even deeper this time. His eyes turned black, as his low growl began to morph into a ferocious growl.

She looked at him, and rolled her eyes.

"Fine, whatever," she said, turning her back. "You're no fun. Nice music, though!"

She scampered away.

He looked at the moon, wanting to let it all out...and, for a moment, fearing that he would. He could control the wolf, but, as he thought of his past love these last few months, things had gotten progressively worse.

The werewolf Daniel "Oz" Osbourne pocketed the cross and walked to the parking lot where his van rested.

He needed to shape up.


End file.
